


Warlock Dowling and His Adventures in Therapy

by AquaWings23



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: POV Warlock Dowling, Warlock goes to therapy, Warlock tells his childhood war stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:30:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaWings23/pseuds/AquaWings23
Summary: "I'm sorry-your nanny said what?""She said that if I didn't eat my vegetables, I wouldn't have enough power to destroy the Earth and that I'd be a weak scrub forever."In which Warlock finally goes to therapy and shocks his therapist with tales of his crazy caretakers.





	1. Late

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever and I have no idea what I'm doing. I found a prompt on Tumblr about Warlock going to therapy and sharing stories of his crazy caretakers and I absolutely loved it. Sadly, there were no fics already written with that prompt, so I decided to write it myself! I'll update whenever I finish a chapter, so sorry about that! I get more serious into writing, I might develop an actual schedule. We'll see! I hope you enjoy and please don't be afraid to leave a kudos or comment!
> 
> I don't own Good Omens or any of the Good Omens characters. They all belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

11:15 AM.

His new patient was late.

Dr. Greene sat in his plush office chair, reading the new patient’s case file. He was interested in the man’s story: he had honestly never had a case like this before. Aged 24, diagnosed with depression and aggressive behavior. Warlock Dowling. 

The old grandfather clock in the corner of his office ticked, irritating the therapist. He had come in on a day off for this. 

Stepping out of his office into the reception area, Dr. Greene scanned the room. The only other person in the small space was his receptionist, Carla, typing away at her computer.

“Carla?”  
“Yes, Dr. Greene?”  
“Has Mr. Dowling sent any messages saying that he would be late?”

Carla looked back down to her screen, clicking away the numerous emails and messages she had to sort through.  
“No, Dr. Greene, I’m sorry about that. I can give him a call, if you’d like?”  
“No, that’s fine, I’ll just wait a little longer.”

As the therapist turned to walk back into his office, the door to the waiting room slammed open. Standing in the doorway was a young man, tall and lean, almost gangly in proportions. His long brown hair was tied into a ponytail, he had piercing green eyes, and he held a scowl that could rival that of any gang leader in existence. He wore a ratted grey hoodie and black jeans, torn at the knees. His ears held tiny black studs. Even though his physical form looked fragile, the bitter energy radiating off this man was powerful enough to knock someone off their feet.

Dr. Greene was taken aback for a split second. The things that he read in the case file-those things were really done by this sad-looking man? He shook himself off and put on a smile.

“Warlock?”

No response. His scowl only seemed to darken as he kept his gaze on the doctor. 

“...Come on in.”


	2. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock and Dr. Greene talk about setting boundaries for Warlock's sessions.

Warlock stepped into the office, eyes glancing around the spacious room. His eyes landed on the old grandfather clock in the corner, ticking away as he sat down in the chair in the center of the room. The sound sent a chill down his spine.

He felt extremely uncomfortable. Every single thing in this room reminded him of his father’s study: the plush chairs with gold detailing along the sides, the carved wooden desk, the grandfather clock- especially the grandfather clock. Something was wrong with that clock.

Dr. Greene stayed a step back, observing his new patient. “So, Warlock…”

“Something’s wrong with your clock.”

Warlock’s eyes drilled a hole into Dr. Greene’s head. The therapist paused, a little unsure of what exactly Warlock was telling him. He glanced at the clock.

“...I suppose it is a little slow, but-”  
“No. Something is wrong with it. With the ticking.”

Greene listened, hearing the almost melodic tick-tock of the grandfather clock. Nothing about the noise seemed to be abnormal. 

“Would you like me to stop it? I can if it’s bothering you,” Dr. Green asked.  
“No, it’s fine,” Warlock replied. His eyes were still on the clock. He turned to look at the doctor. 

“So, I’m supposed to lay on your couch and tell you about my childhood and we figure out what the fuck is wrong with me, right?” Warlock tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, his posture sinking as he slid into his chair. 

“Well, not exactly. I’m going to first establish some boundaries: find out what you’re comfortable talking about, what makes you upset, stuff like that. As our sessions go on, we can explore those boundaries more and hopefully get you to open up a little more about your personal life.”

“Fine, let’s start. My mom was a bitch and she didn’t really love me, my dad wasn’t home enough to love me, and I was raised by my nanny who retired when I was six.” 

Wow. Dr. Greene was not expecting that.  
“Let’s start off slowly. You mentioned your nanny? What was she like?”  
“Oh, she was batshit crazy. She said if I didn’t finish my dinner, I wouldn’t have enough power to take over the world.”

Dr. Greene looked up from his notes. He wasn’t sure he had heard that correctly.  
"I’m sorry-your nanny said what?"  
"She said that if I didn't eat my vegetables, I wouldn't have enough power to destroy the Earth and that I'd be a weak scrub forever."


End file.
